Exactly twenty years ago, Christophe Tison published He loved me. In it, he revealed that he had been the victim of a paedophile at the age of 12. A friend of his parents raped him “for love”. His book describes an era of liberation (the 1970s), which for this teenager was a veritable nightmare. To read Tison is to understand that children of the seventies weren’t just victims of their parents’ experiments: they were guinea pigs in a laboratory run by adults who believed themselves to be revolutionaries. New practices were tried on them, new ways of living were tested. But when it comes to liberation, we’ve locked them up for good.

LSD, the night I never got out of is a subjective essay, alternating first-person narrative and serious investigation into the history of this product, with the aim of demystifying psychedelic literature. It’s all the rage to praise lysergic acid blotters…